


Never Give A Loaded Weapon To Those Who Know How To Fire It

by originalramune67



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blood and Gore, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Consensual Sex, Gay Sex, HYDRA can go suck my ass, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Overprotective Bucky Barnes, Overprotective Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Profanity, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Skinny!Steve, Steve fights dirty, Steve the Morally Grey, how do I tag??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalramune67/pseuds/originalramune67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a post on Tumblr from a wonderful author and artist on hereby the name of Bluandorange. I saw this and knew I had to write it. If just so I could read it. </p>
<p>HYDRA figured out a way to "de-serum" Steve and proceeds to make the fatal mistake of underestimating him. They think just 'cause he's tiny, he won't be a threat. They think if they take away his voice and humiliate him, he'll lose his will to fight. They think giving him to what's left of his best friend will break his spirit. </p>
<p>They are fuckin' wrong. </p>
<p>Steve bides his time and when the moment's right, he dismantles HYDRA from the inside and out. They never should've underestimated him and the never should've let him near the weapon he's known how to fire since childhood: Bucky goddamn Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve still doesn't know how they did it.

And he doesn't know if he's ever going to find out. At least at this rate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A simple job. Couple of unknown bots ravaging through the streets of Brooklyn. Huh, funny. Seemed as though everything these days revolved around his life. His past. And Bucky.

Steve wondered if he would be seeing Bucky. He doubted it. If they're smart...

But then again, they are H.Y.D.R.A, so that answers the smart question.

Have they ever done a fucking thing right?

Language, he berates himself inside his head.

Amazing how quickly a "simple job" could escalate to something like this. Steve slips into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he reawakens the sides of the metal slab he'd been lying on no longer touch the sides of his body.

There is a blinding light directly above him, so it takes him a few seconds of squinting and blinking to adjust.

If this is what you'd call adjustment.

His colour scale is off. Strange.

As he tries to pull in a deep breath, several other things become apparent. There is a rattle in his throat that grumbles in his ribcage, and the breath makes his nose whistle and dizziness and light headedness set in.

Seventy years may be a long time, but Steve knows that no allowance of time will ever let that feeling fade in his mind.

Asthma.

An odd feeling of panic begins to set in at the edges of his mind and Steve tries to sit up.

Leather restraints stop most of his movement but he can still see.

He can see the thin chest and waist and arms and legs. He can now feel his differences in his body. He can feel his lack of mass.

He can now also feel the bandages that wrap around his torso, chest and shoulders. He can feel the way they wrap around his neck. He is now aware of the twinging pain in his throat.

He can see the horseshoes shaped blood stain on the bandages that spreads across his sternum and pecs. And he knows the shape of H.Y.D.R.A's symbol.

He throws his head back to scream, but no sound emerges.

H.Y.D.R.A has carved itself into his now frail body. And they have taken his voice.

 

 

 

Okay I know this is short but I just wanted to see what I could get from this prompt. Please leave any kudos and comments maybe bookmark and follow this story?? Maybe? And tell your friends! This is my first fanfic for this pairing so I am excited to see what this story can have in store! Thank you all so much!!


	2. The Night Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next Steve awakens, he is strapped to chair. The bandages itch and aggravate the wounds on his chest and neck and he can feel the wet stickiness of blood beginning to seep through his bandages.

The next Steve awakens, he is strapped to chair. The bandages itch and aggravate the wounds on his chest and neck and he can feel the wet stickiness of blood beginning to seep through his bandages. 

He can feel sweat beginning to gather on his forehead and he carefully turns his head, trying not to agitate his cuts. He flinches as he feels edges being caught on the wrappings. 

Upon closer inspection of the room where he currently resides in, he can at least from what he can see, observe that he is completely alone. 

He has no doubt though that he is anything but alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had known it had been a few hours since he had woken in the chair. He had sat unflinching through the almost silence. 

No one came into the room and Steve held a steady gaze with the grimy wall in front of him despite the rattle deep in his chest for what felt like hours. Suddenly, a man stepped through the large metal door to Steve's left. 

A small man came into the room, lab coat dingy around the sleeve cuffs as if he'd dipped them into ashes. His glasses sat low on his nose and his hair was curly, except for where it fell into his eyes, resting on his glasses frame. 

His steps were quiet and Steve's breathing became harsh as the man walked across the room. The man began to write things on a clipboard that had previously been attached to the wall. Deciding that he was through with whatever he had been writing, he hung the clipboard back on the wall, tucked his pen into his lab coat pocket and walked over to Steve. 

Once he reached him, he reached out to try and touch him, but Steve jerked away. The man tsked and grabbed his jaw roughly; Steve felt the mans fingers tightening on his face. 

"What's wrong, Captain? Cat got your tongue?" The man let out a high pitched chuckle. " Don't worry, we can fix that. If you're good. Amazing how electroshock therapy can shut down certain corners of the brain. Truly fascinating. Well give you your voice back, even if you've got a bad attitude. Because they will love to here you scream" 

With that the man released Steve's jaw with a huff. Steve gently moved his jaw back and forth, trying to massage the pain out. 

The man began to walk away, grabbing the clipboard on his way back to the metal door. Inputting the passcode into the keypad, he hesitated before hitting the enter key, speaking, 

"You know, Captain, I think you'll find our work very intriguing. It's amazing what the human mind and body can be pushed to. And what it can be pushed beyond. I think you'll find it's truly electrifying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love for last chapter I apprieciate soooo much


	3. Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve was back to the silence that had pervaded the room before the man had entered it. He wondered how long it would be until another HYDRA scientist came to poke at him. There was no way to tell the passage of time in this small room. No natural light shone into the room. It was completely shut off from the world. Few things were actually in the room Steve was being held in. the door, the chair that Steve was currently strapped to, the layers of blood and dirt that caked the wall and the floor. There was a large glass panel to his right but Steve knew a one way mirror when he saw one.

Steve was back to the silence that had prevaded the room before the man had entered it. He wondered how long it would be until another HYDRA scientist came to poke at him. There was no way to tell the passage of time in this small room. No natural light shone into the room. It was completely shut off from the world. Few things were actually in the room Steve was being held in. the door, the chair that Steve was currently strapped to, the layers of blood and dirt that caked the wall and the floor. There was a large glass panel to his right but Steve knew a one way mirror when he saw one.

He heard his stomach growl but he had been hungrier than this for a lot longer than this so he ignored it; it didn’t even faze him. He waited, his gaze lost into the memories, hoping to pass the time.

Steve was sat at the small worn table they called a dining room. He was waiting for Bucky to get home to ask about colors. He had been commissioned to do a sign for the grocer down the street. He had finished all the lining and now had to wait for Bucky to come home and tell him which colours were which. It was rare for him to do painting because they took him so long. Him to sketch, then line, then waiting for Bucky to get home so he didn’t end up with an orange base and purple shading. It was the reason he did portraits more often. Pencil was easy when you already saw the world in grey. Plus you could fetch a pretty penny or two doing ‘em down by Coney.

He heard the door swing open and glanced over him shoulder to see Bucky drag himself through the doorway. His friend trudged over to the “dining room”, plop himself down in a chair and rest his head onto Steve’s bony shoulder.

Steve pressed his cheek onto the top of Bucky’s head, feeling the dampness that always seemed to stay, the slight smell of salt from the waves that perfumed the air of the docks. Steve spoke, “Long day?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, pressing more of his weight against Steve, nuzzling his sweaty face into Steve’s neck.  
“I warmed up the last of the stew for ya…”  
Bucky took another breath and hummed in acknowledgement of what Steve had said. Pressing a soft kiss to the side of Steve’s neck that he had previously been pressing his face, he dragged himself out of the chair to walk over to the bowl still slightly steaming. Steve heard him rattling through the few pieces of silverware they owned. Carrying the bowl back to the table he sat back down into the chair he had previously occupied, spooning trough the few cabbage leaves and the boiled water in the bowl. Bucky took a bite and talked with his mouth full.

“Steve, have you eaten today?” Steve shifted in his seat, before mumbling out an affirmative. Bucky spoke again “Steve…”  
Steve was quick to respond “I’ll be fine! Beside it’ll only be for a day or so! And it’s not like I'm workin’ the hours that you are, so don’t worry…”  
Bucky sighed, “Stevie if I aint worrying ‘bout you, then what am I supposed to do with myself, huh?” Steve looked down at his hands. Bucky shook his head, though Steve didn’t see it. “Alright ya punk, c’mere.”  
Bucky tugged Steve’s chair over to him, the legs making a scraping noise across the floor to be next him. “You’re gonna sit your skinny butt right here and eat this burnt cabbage soup wit’ me.” Steve tried to argue, “Buck….” Bucky began to shake his head, “Nope, Rogers, I am not dealin’ wit’ any of your shit today. Eat and enjoy.”   
Steve shook his head, amazed by how stubborn Bucky could be when he wanted to. “Alright Buck, I’ll eat wit’ ya, on one condition..” Bucky smiled, “You really think you’re in a position to argue, Rogers?” Steve laughed, “Always.” “Alright, punk, what’s your condition?”   
Steve looked up at him through his lashes, “help me pick out my colours after?” Bucky laughed, deep in his chest, “’Course, anytime, punk.”

Steve had been hungrier than this before. So he could tune it out, waiting for more HYDRA scientist to experiment on him, the taste of cabbage stew in his mouth, and Bucky’s laugh echoing in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait. real life issues, man.


	4. Like Real People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve knew it had been at least two days since that first HYDRA scientist had visited him. He could feel his body weakening. Even back before the war they hadn't completely gone without food for days straight. Only a few times had they truly been desperate, waiting for the days in between the paychecks from the docks, for the odd pay from whatever job would hire Steve or the rare change from a commission Steve had done. So they weren't all that strangers to deep belly hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags have been added and removed. Minor changes to previous chapters to fit new story outline. I'm a few chapter ahead of what's uploaded so hopefully I'll update again soon. People in my hometown suck.

Steve knew it had been at least two days since that first HYDRA scientist had visited him. He could feel his body weakening. Even back before the war they hadn't completely gone without food for days straight. Only a few times had they truly been desperate, waiting for the days in between the paychecks from the docks, for the odd pay from whatever job would hire Steve or the rare change from a commission Steve had done. So they weren't all that strangers to deep belly hunger. 

But knowing the memory of hunger would always be different than experiencing it again. 

Steve peeled his eyes open as he heard the door slid open. Turning his head to look, he saw another scientist enter. It was a different man than the precious days; almost in total opposites. 

Whereas the previous man had been small and mouse like, this man was lean and long,he holds his shoulders high and back like a man that knew he took up space. His hair was dark and thick and the large moustache on his face was even thicker. The clipboard the previous man had written on was in his hands. The man spoke, his accent heavier, more Russian than the other man's German. 

"Hello Captain." The man spoke, "You know, you shouldn't have been let out of the house back in the '40's, let alone the hands of the one doctor Abraham Erskine. Though I guess he was lucky for our own cause. And easier than thought to eliminate. One simple soldier and that traitor was gone; an unfortunate circumstance that his work had to die with him.... But luckily for us, we now have you! The final remains of the doctor's life's work." The man spoke pompously, as though he was entitled to everything in the world.

"It was difficult for us to understand Dr. Desmond's work and that we could understand was simply a bastard of the true serum. Though it did prove to serve us. But I, we strive for perfection. And you, dear Captain, are going to help us." 

Steve's breathing was harsh by this point and saliva had been looking in his mouth while this idiot scientist talked before him. When the man had finished his speech, Steve spat the mouthful of spit onto the man's boot. He man quickly drew back his foot, a look of disgust quickly turned to anger. 

When the man spoke again, his voice was full of venom, "You're not going anywhere Captain. You're no super soldier anymore. You're a runt of a lab rat who's failed their experiments." With that, the man grabbed a fistful of blond hair, greasy from neglect. Steve winced as his hair was pulled, the twinge of pain not completely masked. 

"You're here now, and you are going to help us, whether or not that means by force; you are here now, Captain. And we are not letting you go."

With that, and then realized the handful of hair, throwing his head back to collide painfully with the back of the chair and Steve couldn't contain the grant of pain that escaped. His features winced with the impact. 

The man picked up the clipboard, begin writing again and Steve glared at him from under his brows. With a small hum, the man walked over to the door hung the clipboard back onto the wall and left.

Steve inhaled deeply closing his eyes as he slowly exhaled. 

It was a few hours before the man re-entered the room a trolley of tools by his side. Two figures decked in black, head-to-toe, guns strapped to their sides, entered the room behind him. It was the first time that more than one person had been I. The room with him at a time. Reaching Steve, the man pulled the trolley to stop beside him. The two armed men positioned themselves behind each of Steve's corners. The scientist began to remove things from his bag and place them on the trolley. The man spoke, 

"You know, Captain, we mentioned earlier that you would be helping us. This is the part where that comes in to play." The man continued to pull out objects as he spoke and by the time he had finished, he had everything laid out practically perfectly displayed. 

The man's moustache twitched as he perused his instruments. Picking up a large needle, the man pressed out the air before pushing the needle into the crook of Steve's elbow and injects the fluid. As Steve's vision begins to go blurry, Steve hears the man's accented Russian speaking, "You are going to be invaluable to us." 

Steve loses consciousness.


	5. Pump it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Steve regains consciousness, he's no longer in the chair, he is now lying on a tan-was-once-white cot in a completely white room. There was a mirror like the one in the chair room, in this room as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is a bit OOC in this chapter and I'm sorry about it but it's necessary to the plot. Also new tags have been added to help in my defense for this chapter. Steve the morally grey. Because it seems like everything in this marvel universe is shades of grey at the moment. Enjoy!!

When Steve regains consciousness, he's no longer in the chair, he is now lying on a tan-was-once-white cot in a completely white room. There was a mirror like the one in the chair room, in this room as well. 

With a groan, Steve pushed himself up into a sitting position. He felt the shift of fabric and saw that he had been changed into baggy black pant. Reaching down to roll up the trailing pant cuffs, he saw the puncture wound from the needle, and based on the similar wounds that surrounded it, there had been more injections after he had lost consciousness. He felt the shift of the bandages around his torso shift. Glancing down, he saw the wrappings had been changed. Blood no longer drenched the gauze, making the symbol burned and carved into his skin no longer show. The beginning of bleed-through would start again, he could feel the edges catching on the bandages. 

He reached a hand up to touch them, and winced away at the contact. Pushing himself up, he approached the mirror. He placed a hand against it, glancing over and over before slamming his hand again for it and walking away. Reaching the middle of the room, he began pacing. 

It was a few hours later when the noises began. Banging and gunfire, the sounds of yelling and screams. The mirror rattled from impact. Steve waited, watching the door carefully, waiting for anything. He didn't know what he would do, if anything happened. He was no Captain America anymore. But he was waiting, hoping that being ready would do something. The window mirror rattled again, louder this time as though something had been slammed against it. Apparently, that's what had happened because Steve heard groaning.

Steve still flinched when the banging on the door. Full body slamming, as if someone was slamming themselves against the metal. There were pauses between. Each banging, as who ever or whatever was getting a running start between each impacts.

And the door slams open. The figure is silhouetted and Steve blinks against what seems like natural light that pours through the door. The figure is large and broad. The figure would tower over Steve and the door frame is almost entirely blocked by the man's a build. A pan down the figure draws the attention to a rather large gun in the man's hand and a glint of silver shines into Steve's eyes making him squint. His eyes began to slowly adjust; the figure has finally begun to clear and features emerge. The edges of dark long hair and black leather. Heavy boots. When the male figure, now obvious to Steve's eyes, collapses. Steve's eyes have fully adjusted by now in time to see other men enter the room, goggles and masks concealing faces, but large guns easily revealed them, and "HYDRA soldiers" are a good enough identification as any. Steve watches as the man is dragged back through the doorway and surrounded. Half off the men train their guns on the man who had collapsed and the other half on him. He doesn't see the man closest to him raise his gun. "Who was that ma-" 

The butt of the man's gun connected with the side of Steve's head. 

When Steve reawakens he is back in the chair room. He huffs out an angry puff of air upon the view. He is just about done with being knocked unconscious. He was surprised to see the moustached scientist enter the room again. The man, while his human interactions had been few, was the first to have repeated encounters with him. 

The man has the same smile on his face, and Steve assumes so must he. The same barely contained anger painted onto his face. The man pulled the same metal trolley behind him. Steve wondered with malice if he'd be sedated again before HYDRA ran their "tests". Never glancing his eyes say from the man as he set up all his instruments the same as he had before and Steve tugged at the leather restraints as he watched the man pick up the same large needle as he had before. 

The restraint gave.

Steve glanced down at his skinny wrist in surprise. Glancing back up at the large metal door, Steve is presented with the fact that the guards didn't accompany the man this time. Poor, tiny Captain, too weak to hurt anyone. Steve snorts.

Bullshit.

Steve watches the man fill the large syringe with cloudy grey fluid and begin to turn back to Steve, a smart remark forming on his lips and Steve truck. 

He reached out for the man, recalling every fight in every alley he'd ever had. His right hook is swift and Steve watches the way that the man's head swings to the side and he stumbles as Steve reaches to undo the restraint on his other wrist. As the man regains his bearings. He turned back to Steve, his anger completely marring his face, contorting it into an ugly scowl. The man still has the large syringe in his hand.

Steve was prepared for the man to raise the syringe, hoping to Knox Steve unconscious, but Steve hadn't spent twenty years getting knocked down by every bully in Brooklyn to lose. He raised a skinny forearm to block the needle in the man's hands and delivered a blow to his exposed stomach. He hears the huff of air that the scientist lets out from the impact. Steve hits him again with thee other fist in the same spot, and he can feel the aching shift of the bandages as they run over sensitive edges, reopening the brand on his chest. Soon enough, the blood would begin to seep more heavily through and he wonders if he'll receive the same oh-so-fabulous treatment for his injuries after attacking one of HYDRA's scientists. Steve feels a small smirk begin to slip into his face.

The man obviously isn't as smart as he parades to be. He insists on continuing to try and raise the hand with the syringe and Steve almost wants to laugh at the man's stubborn stupidity. The irony. Steve twists the man's hand and watches the syringe slide delicately across the cement floor and Steve uses the opportunity of the man being distracted to send a quick jab to the man's jaw, and the scientist once again goes sprawling and Steve quickly undoes the leather around his ankles and lurches forward off the seat, reaching for the syringes a few inches away. He can hear the scientist groaning and the wet smack sound of blood and saliva hit against the floor and the shifting of fabric as the man stands. Steve knows this is all coming to a head. He could never finish a fight, backed into a corner, no matter how much bravado he put on after one, blood dripping rom his nose, Bucky's heavy arm slung around his shoulders...

He only had one shot at this. Quickly getting to his feet, Steve waited as the man ran at him, raising the hand with the syringe at the man.

The door burst open and Steve can see from the corner of his eye the armed HYDRA soldiers pouring into the room, every single gun trained on him. Trained on Steve, ready and oh-so-trigger-happy. And Steve meets none of their gazes. His eyes are downcast, brow furrowed in anger and disgust. His face is warm by blood splatter and he can feel it dripping down his hand, running along the now broken needle and off onto the floor. Ironically, he can also feel the beginnings of bills start to dampen the gauze wrapped around his torso. 

The scientist is lying at Steve's feet, red leaking to form a pseudo-halo on an evil man. A glint of silver shines in his neck. Steve can feel the blood between his toes. He drops the broken syringe and it clatters against the floor and he is swarmed by anger and leather, and heavy cocked guns.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS VIOLENCE IN THE FORM OF TORTURE AND GORE IN THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE PROCEED SAFELY
> 
> thanks to  
> Emma The  
> TridentsnWeb ValentineLuna  
> CynthiaFeline StarMoon_5  
> Lovesfic(me23) strangedazey  
> Monkeydo2 wecantgiggleitsacrimescene  
> Crazytook Silvis  
> acethespian Cissathebookworm  
> sydster999 wandathewinterwitch  
> SpookyNudist and Snowecat...  
> for being so super patient and supportive and giving this fic a chance even when it hadn't been updated in forever. thank you as well to everyone who bookmarked or left kudos, you rock. also, thanks to my doctor who subscribed me medical marijuana for my depression. youre a cool dude

   Steve is back in the chair when he peels his eyes open again. He licks his lips and feels the chapped skin and the iron taste of blood there. His eyes narrow in pain at the throbbing at his left temple and the back of his head. He thinks back to the last time he’d shaken himself back into consciousness, wondering how many more times it would be. His streak continues, it seems. HYDRA hasn’t made the same mistakes this time around; the back wall is lined with guards, faces exposed and guns ready. Even with the violence that Steve had shown with the syringe, it did seem just a tad excessive. And then the large metal door opened.  
   
   Another group of guards walked as a clump, surrounding a large figure in the center. Steve stares, trying to see who is so important, or dangerous, as to need a HYDRA  escort. As the group draws closer, Steve is able to see the figure.  
   
   The man is tall, and his shoulders are broad and muscular and Steve would be engulfed in his bulk. His torso is long and covered in leather, similar to the rest of the HYDRA operatives, but a harness is tight over both large shoulders and pectorals. His uniform is covered in flaps, with buttons and toggles to hold them in place. His legs are long and muscled and looking at them, Steve is reminded of something familiar. Natasha had once said that her greatest skill is the ability to crush a man’s head between her thighs and Steve knows without a doubt that this man could do the same. His pants are tight but baggy and pockets cover them and Steve can see them weighed down by miscellaneous objects. The man’s boots are heavy and thick and the model is one that Steve recognizes. They are the same style that he and the Howling Commandos had worn during the war. The man’s steps are heavy and the noises of them fill the room and the sudden silence when they stop is almost deafening. The man wears a pair of goggles and a mask and his face is framed by wavy shoulder length chestnut hair. Steve’s attention is drawn to the man’s hands as he raises the gun and aims it steadily at Steve’s head.  
   
  After the man takes his stance, another figure enters the room. It is the mustached scientist from the last time. Apparently, HYDRA  hadn’t gotten a proper replacement to the scientist Steve had killed. Steve let a small smirk slide onto his face and heard the masked man adjust his stance and raise his gun slightly higher, as if in response.  
   
  “Mr. Rogers… I was very disappointed in your behaviour the other day, acts of violence are unbecoming of a national American icon, wouldn’t you agree? Imagine the headlines, ‘America’s Golden Boy, kills a man!’”  
   
  The scientist tsked at Steve, like a mother scolding a child, and Steve glares up at him. The scientist selected a scalpel off the metal tray beside him and approaches Steve, the blade glinting silver in the fluorescent  lights overhead.  
   
 “Now Mr. Rogers, let’s see how long it takes this size to heal…”  
   
   Steve wasn’t aware how much time had passed as the scientist continually cut and sliced different parts of Steve’s body, watching how and how much bled. His vision was swimming in and out of focus and he felt lightheaded, his head lolling from side to side, too heavy to lift   from the blood loss. He vaguely heard the scientist talking while he made marks on his clipboard.  
   
   “So it seems that when the test subject is in his inferior state, the healing factor reduces  to that a  normal person. Blood flow is consistent throughout tests and is significantly slower than previous test subject codename: Winter. We will proceed with higher levels.”  
   
   Steve can see the mustached scientist pick up the scalpel once again and can barely contain the full body flinch at the sight of it. His breathing picks up and he can sense the beginnings of an asthma attack due to the tightening in his chest and the edges of his vision leaking black. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees the masked man shift on his feet and take a few steps closer to him, his gun lowering ever so slightly as he grows closer. Steve jumps when one of the guards lining the wall barks out a sharp command in what Steve can recognize as Russian. The masked man flinches and immediately resumes his stiff stance, but does not step back.  
   
   The scientist stepped back into Steve’s field of vision and lightly slaps him on the cheek, gripping him under the jaw, tight enough to bruise.  
   
  “Don’t pass out , little Captain, I still have things planned. Now as… scientifically interesting as it is to see how many changes come with your shrinking, I grow tired of your silence. And as we here at HYDRA  are a generous group, I am going to restore the thing we stole.”  
   
  The scientist turns and picks up a piece of rubber and using the grip that he held on Steve’s chin, he forces the rubber piece into Steve’s mouth and the piece forms to the top row of Steve’s teeth. Steve tries to pull his face but the man’s grip tightens. Reaching over Steve’s head, the scientist pulls a tangled mess of wires and metal to frame Steve’s head; two metal plates squeeze against Steve’s temples. The scientist quickly releases Steve’s jaw but before Steve even gets a chance to react, the scientist throws a switch.  
   
  Steve sees white.  
   
 There is nothing to compare the pain to. It is all encompassing and Steve can feel tears leaking from his tightly clenched eyes. If he had working vocal chords, they would have shredded themselves from the force of the pain. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but Steve felt as though it had been years since he had been without the pain. As the pain slowly faded, the last of the convulsions came to a stop, Steve becomes aware of small whimpering noises throughout the room, and he realizes that the noises are coming from him. He would feel relief at having his voice back but the lingering pain is overwhelming. Steve can once again hear the scientist speaking but his voice is muffled, like the way that things sounded when he was sick.  
   
“...while the Chair may have some adverse effects… you will find its method highly effective… purely from a scientific standpoint, its ability to silence parts of the brain… though it is delightful to hear you cry. As Steve’s hearing begins to clear he is certain of what the scientist says, “Now let’s see how that pretty boy voice sounds like screaming.”  
   
 The man cuts the bandages away from around Steve’s thin chest to reveal the angry red HYDRA symbol carved across Steve’s chest and has begun to scab over. The scientist scrapes across the irritated skin and Steve winces at the uncomfortable feeling. The scientist picks up the scalpel that he had used earlier  and begins to recarve the symbol into Steve’s chest, aggravating the already frustrated skin. Steve can feel the blood begin to spill down his torso. When the scientist finishes, he cleans off the scalpel and wipes his hand through the blood that has pooled on Steve’s stomach and Steve flinches away as the scientist presses his bloodied hand to Steve’s cheek. Standing up and looking down at Steve, who is panting and pale from the blood loss, the scientist proudly says, “Hail HYDRA.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I will hopefully have the next chapter up very soon. As always there will be warning and notes at the beginning of every chapter of they are needed throughout this fic.


End file.
